Lean Out The Window
by YouWILLbealright
Summary: He was looking for an iPod with a "cracked-to-shit-screen, a black back, silver, completely wasted apple on the back - I mean, why take one bite and then, like, just not even eat anymore? Who wastes food like that? - and a semi-new pair of green, gummi bear headphones." Clint/Darcy. Strong launguage ahead. ignores T:TDW and CA:TWS
1. Call me maybe?

**AN: If you've read CARRY ME HOME, this is more of a different story than a rewrite. In my original, everything was rushed - they met in the first chapter and were kissing by the second. (There's no evidence anywhere that Clint and Darcy actually meet, so Clint knowing all about her and vice versa is out there, even if this is non-cannon.) That was "super amatuer" work, in my own words.**

**CARRY ME HOME is more of a starting line, than an actual thing to pour over and make as long as possible. In this, their romance with be slower and more thought out than what my earlier self wrote out.**

**Enjoy reading, please! :D**

* * *

_**NEW MEXICO SHIELD BASE, PRE-DESTROYER ATTACK:**_

After a call from Coulson, one giving a mission to find a lost object, Clint Barton is nearing the third hour of searching. He was looking for an iPod with a "cracked-to-shit-screen, a black back, silver, completely wasted apple on the back - I mean, why take one bite and then, like, just not even eat anymore? Who wastes food like that? - and a semi-new pair of green, gummi bear headphones." The voice who had screeched that long-winded description was not Coulson's, but an assumed young female's. Clint thought it was Darcy Lewis', Jane Fosters' quirky, sassy... what, assistant?

Clint didn't really know, but Coulson had been adamant about him finding the goddamn iPod. Said Darcy would kill him - castrate, maybe? Something like that.

After about twenty more grueling minutes, in which he pawed through several cases of confiscated _Apple_ products, Clint decided this was so far beneath his level, he would just give up, find the next agent and say "orders from Coulson, find an iPod with a cracked screen, black back and green headphones." But, just as he was walking towards the agents in the corner of the hastily set up tent, his eye caught on a flash of green.

Deciding that any other agent he sent to look for the iPod would either fail epicaly or take hours upon hours, he rushed to where he had thought he'd seen the green. It wasn't in that case. He moved on to the one next to it. It wasn't in there, either. _Why do we have so many fucking iPhones?,_ Clint thought angrily as he moved on to the case to the other side of the first one.

After pulling out an ancient iPod, gen two, he finally found the object of his searchings. It was as had been described, looking worse for wear, probably because it had been sitting in an old case full of iPods/iPhones-that-were-gathering-dust. Clint opened the iPod, expertly getting past the pass code - Pshh, seriously? Who actually put 0000 as their passcode? - and went straight to the music app.

A lot of the songs were some kind of pop - k-pop, j-pop, rock-pop, just pop in general - ugh - but there was classic rock, like Queen, a bunch of 80's hairbands, indie and country songs, too. Pressing the home button, he went to the notes app, only to see it hadn't been used in nearly two years.

Clint smiled evilly and made a note that said "_Hawkeye is the best. U is wrong if u disagree._"

Laughing, he called Coulson to inform him of his findings.

_**JANE FOSTERS' LAB, PUENTE ANTIGUO, NEW MEXICO, POST-DESTROYER ATTACK:**_

Darcy was sick of sitting there like a bump on a log. No, really, she was nauseous.

Really, at this point, her life sucked. She was in the middle of fucking nowhere for college credits - _this isn't even her field!_ - she hadn't spoken to any of her family members since she was shipped off to college, her iPod was gone - _probably on a remote island, like in_ Lost - she was guyless, and that is to not mention that the _entire fucking town was just attacked by other worldly beings, was protected by other other worldly beings and one of them was hot for her one of two of her only friends_.

Very few of the above problems could be fixed, at this point. Thing was, she wanted to talk to her mother to cry about all of this, but her iPod was gone. And, they hadn't come in contact since she was wondering what college would be like - the iFunny posts were true, it was all Ramen and no fun unless alcohol was involved.

Darcy couldn't go anywhere, couldn't talk to her family, couldn't snap her fingers like _Sabrina the teenage witch_ and get a guy or her iPod or deal with the fallout of being attacked by _ET_ wannabes with anybody but a bunch of jack-booted-thugs.

So, there she sat, at the desk that had miraculously held in there like the cat in the tree posters, sulking. Darcy stared at the stain on the floor that was "not from a murder, I assure you," as said by the previous owner of this place.

It could have been hours - it was mind-numbing, watching a fucking stain - before a tired voice from above and to the left of her hunched posture said, "your iPod, Miss Lewis." Darcy whipped her head up to see Coulson, her iPod - her _baby_ - in his outstretched hand. "Let's both hope it is sufficient, because I am not having an agent buy you a new one."

"Oh my god! Thanks! For a jack-booted-thug, you're not that bad, I guess!" She grinned, yanking her iPod out of his hand.

Coulson smiled, "I'll take that as a compliment." Then, he walked away.

She only realized a few hours later, ones which were spent listening to every song in her entire library, that she should have asked who found it.

* * *

_**STARK TOWER, NEW YORK, POST-CHITAURI INVASION:**_

Clint was sitting at the thankfully not-mutilated bar in Stark Tower. He'd never thought he'd have anything to do with anything that was proudly labeled _Stark_, starting when he saw an old newspaper proclaiming that there was a _Genius 4-year-old Who Made A Fucking Circuit Board! Who Gives A Shit If It's The Prodigal Son Of Howard Stark, This Is Exciting!_

He hunched over his bowl of soggy, years(?)-old fruity pebbles - he's a grown man, he can choose whatever cereal he want, fuck you - they had to be old, Tony couldn't live by himself and would never think to buy cereal, going off what Natasha had told him after her "internship" or whatever. Clint was in a bad place, right then, anyway, so it didn't really matter all that much.

He'd gotten Coulson killed. That was what ravaged his mind - had for hours, ever since he woke up with a splitting headache.

Some part of his mind, the logical one that he ignored most of the time, whispered,_ it was Loki. Loki took over you and made you do what you did. And, Natasha stopped you before you got to Coulson. It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong._

He tuned it out.

Why? Because, it was his fault that Coulson, one of the very few people to ever gain and keep his trust, had died in the heat of battle - one that he, alone, had choreographed.

He wasn't the only one in the room - Bruce sat in the happily in tact arm-chair, not even that far from him. But, he still felt singled out and completely alone.

Tony was God-knows-where, Steve was in the gym with Thor, sparring - Clint didn't even entertain the idea that he'd ever be near their levels of strength - and Natasha was - what? Taking a piss? Marveling over Steve? Plotting his death for killing Coulson?

That thought brought his whole guessing-game to a screeching, hand-across-the-seat-over-passenger's-chest, huge-fucking-intake-of-breath halt. Clint nearly face-planted in his cereal. Bruce looked up, concerned.

_Bruce isn't even that kind of doctor, so he should but out_, Clint thinks.

_**Tromsø, NORWAY, POST-CHITAURI INVASION:**_

Darcy was pissed. She was also just slightly proud - Thor was worshipped by Nordic people, after all, slow clap - but still, very pissed.

It was her and Jane in a fucking empty room, because _apparently_ real scientists liked to do work and _not_ obsess over a god. Whatever. Their loss. Thor was fucking great.

Okay, she wasn't being as eloquent as she could be, but _holy shit-on-fire_, the _Avengers_, man.

The tv in their prison - sorry, "get away" - was tiny, circa 1970's and grainy-to-the-point-of-migrane. The little antenna's on top had to be propped up by red Solo cups, filled with water. Yeah, let's put water on a fucking tv. Great idea. Who are you? Einstein? Tony Stark? An EEE (read: you're fucking better than everyone else because you know stuff that they don't, lol - yfbteebyksttdl?) student?

So, in conclusion, they'd had about five goddamn minutes of a _purely_ desolated New York, flashes of red - metallic, cloth, hair, blood - and thousands of slumped over not-so-little-green-ish-men. Yay. Then, the tv had shorted out and here they fucking were, sitting, boiling and festering in their rage.

Where the hell was SHIELD? Where was it? _It better be on it's way to pick us up, so help me god..._

She didn't want to be there anymore. She was going stir-crazy. Outside was a shitstorm of fluffy, blissful, ice-cold snow and inside was Jane's pitiful-ness.

Oh, what it'd be like to be with the Avengers, in New York...

(Cough, cough, not much better, cough, cough)

_**STARK TOWER, NEW YORK, POST-CHITAURI INVASION:**_

"Bruce, I'm fine." He'd been insisting his point for going on half-a-fucking-hour. Bruce had called Steve up, and with him came the rest of the gang - the Catin the Hat, Things One and Two, as well as Maria Alexandrova*. "I'm _fine_," he barked, venom dripping from his voice.

Steve looked across the small space between them - he was leaning over the bar next to Bruce, who was asking him stupid qeustions like when was the last time you slept? Have you used the restroom in the last twenty-four hours? Not to mention Thor's worried look, Natasha's own hidden worry and Tony's poking and proding.

Clint didn't want all of these people in his space. He couldn't breathe. This is why he stayed high up.

"Clint," Steve started reluctantly. "Whatever's bothering you, whatever's twisting your mind to mush...," his words came out artfully. "Well, it might help to talk...?"

Clint laughed harshly. "Ha, no. If anything's gonna help, it'll be you guys getting the hell away from me." He stood up, nearly knocking his chair to the ground before skillfully weaving his way through his teammates. He feet carried him to the terrance thing-y that Loki had recently ravaged. Asshole.

He looked around, gulping for breath. No one followed him, for which he was infinetly grateful. That was, until Tony came out, standing _right next_ to him, even though there was a whole, empty thing-y to stand on.

"Thor was telling stories down in the gym about these two girls, Jane and Darcy. So, I'm thinking we should bring them here, surprise Thor, ya know?" Clint grunted in response and Tony continued. "Yeah, well, Old Man's busy and I don't want Natashalie to scare the girls, nor do I want the girls to scare Bruce. So, that leaves you."

Clint shrugged. "I don't know if I'm the man for the job, Tony. The only way I'm good with words is lieing."

"Nonsense. _Get in line?_ That was perfectly fine. Also, I'm thinking we should find Bruce's lady friend, huh?" He elbowed Clint in the ribs - his poor, sore-as-fuck ribs - playfully.

"I guess Tony. Get me some numbers, I'll call. But you owe me so many bowls of brand-new cereal, it's not funny."

_**Tromsø, NORWAY, POST-CHITAURI INVASION:**_

Silence. Silence.

_Do you ever feel like a plastic bag, floating through the wind, wanting to start again?_

Ugh.

Tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.

Suddenly, the phone - what year is it? 1990? - rings, and before Jane can even stand, Darcy's across the room, answering the ancient phone.

"Oh my god, _thank you_. Who are you and what do you want? Also, can you say it in as many words as possible, please, that'd be great!"

"No problem...? Uh, I'm Hawkeye, an Avenger. Can I ask who I'm talking to?"

Darcy rips the phone away from her ear, checks the number - _Unknown_ - and curses loudly.

"Fuck. Darcy Lewis. _What_?" It comes out harsher than she meant it to, but whatever. Too late now.

"Well, there's this guy, he's a prodigal heir of this huge company, it goes by Stark Industries, was an army weapons manufactuer, but now makes baby bottles and his name is Anthony Edward Stark. He's got these people, Earth's mightiest heroes, in his tower - it was called Stark tower, but now it's Avengers tower, I think because only the 'a' is left, not sure - and one goes by the name Thor."

"Yeah, okay, enough with details. What's the point of this call, Hawk?" She's angry - sue her.

"He's talking about you and Jane Foster like you're goddesses. Tony thought it'd be a good idea to fly tou out here and surprise Thor with you two. You in?"

Darcy sighs. "Hold on a second." She's got a brilliant idea. In a loud voice, she intones, "what do you mean we've got to pack our bags ASAP? We're leaving? Like, in twenty minutes?"

It works - Jane runs out of the stupid, boring room and in the direction of their bunk.

However, "uh, what was that?"

"Can we have Jane in on this, too? It'd be pretty fucking awesome to surprise both of them. I know Jane's dying to lip-lock with Thor, the god of thunder, the almost only guy she's ever wooed."

Claws - that's what she was going to call Hawkeye from now on, she didn't get a name - laughed heartily. "That'll only make it better, Miss Lewis. Since you've obviously said yes, I'll send an e-mail with the ETA?"

Darcy sighs happilly. Finally, something good was happening. "It's notaffiliatedwithSHIELD at gmail dot com."

She can practically feel the deadpan over the line.

"Fine. It's mew_mew_babe at gmail dot com. There's an underscore between the first and second 'mew's' and between the second 'mew' and 'babe.' All lowercase."

"Thank you, Miss Lewis."

"Not a problem, Claws."

And the last thing she hears is shocked spluttering.

* * *

**AN: There we are! **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of what you may or may not recognize.**

***Maria Alexandrova is a Russian ballet dancer. I'm trying out nicknames right now.  
**

**Reviews are fuel! God bless! **


	2. Dripping

**So, here's the second chapter! Thanks, people who favorited, followed or reviewed! This is a filler, yay! Ugh, right? **

* * *

_**AIRDUCTS, STARK TOWER, NEW YORK, POST-CHITAURI INVASION**_

"_Claws_?" He's incredulous. What kind of name is Claws, nickname or otherwise, anyway? Where does she get off calling him that? "Claws? Claws?" Okay, so he's not taking getting a nickname all that well. Sue him. But, seriously though? Claws?

With an annoyed groan, Clint goes on to the special SHIELD email page and starts a new message, to be sent to 'mew_mew_babe'.

_Miss Lewis,_ he starts it.

_First, I don't appreciate being called "Claws."_

Thankfully, he'd already talked to the Stark pilot, and he was ready to go whenever. Clint had JARVIS get the guy going on his way.

_Second, and lastly, Stark's jet should be coming your way. I figure it'll take a few hours at the least, so be thorough with your packing. You will more than likely never step foot in the Nordic hell hole again, so you could also drink just about any drink you can find._

Should he say that? Did anyone want the newbies to be drunk? Was that even safe? Thus, he backspaced.

_You will more than likely never step foot in the Nordic hell hole again, so there's something. Right?_

_Also, try to keep Doctor Foster in the dark as long as possible, please._

_Hawkeye._

And he was done. Thank God.

After Stark had found the numbers of the Norway scientist place and some army base, he'd climbed into the ducts and had JARVIS not tell anyone but Natasha where he was. He wasnted to be alone, and even though he was talking to people, it was better than doing it with people looking his way every once in a while, or just flat-out, downright staring.

He clicked on the send button and then glanced down to the next number. This was Banner's girl. He didn't know that the man behind the Hulk had ever been in contact with anyone, really, but that wouldn't've made sense, anyway. Clint slowly punched in all of the numbers on the Stark phone, before waiting for two whole rings.

The voice over the line was female and tired. Was the lady chewing gum? "Yes? How can I help you?" She had an accent that, oddly, Clint couldn't place.

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for, uh, Betty Ross?"

"Oh," the lady lowered her voice to quiet. "Is this Leonard? Sweetheart, she's not interested in you, and if General Ross get's wind of this..." she trailed off.

"Look, lady, this is Hawkeye. I'm an avenger, and I need to speak with Betty Ross about some left over gamma signatures from the tesseract. You know, the thing that brought an alien army to Earth?"

"Oh!" She squeaked. "Of course, Hawkeye. I'll transfer you." There was some noise, Clint didn't pay much attention to any of it. Then, another female voice came over the line. He thought he was drowning in female voices. Darcy, the lady, Betty, not to mention Natasha, who he could practically hear scolding him about how it wasn't his fault. _Focus_, he thought then, because he couldn't afford to go down _that_ road.

"Hello. This is Betty Ross. How can I help you?" Clint could kind of tell what Bruce liked about her already - she had a voice that was calming and seemed nice. Probably just being proffesional, but whatever.

"Hi, I'm Hawkeye. Look, is this a secure line?" Tony had warned him that General Ross - Betty's father - would flip his shit if he found out about any of this. Clint wasn't gonna have that - he didn't really know Bruce, but he could magine it'd be a good surprise and might wash off some of the red in his ledger.

"Uh, I don't believe so. Why?" There was panic in her voice, he could tell, but it was covered in some other emotion.

"Your father can't know about this. Do you have an email?" _Let's just hope your father isn't listening in right now_, he thought.

"What's this about?" She demanded.

"This is about the avengers and the tesseract, ma'am. I will explain everything, but it has to stay between as few people as possible." The tessa\eract was the cover up. He knew he'd kind of have to mention it so that General Ross didn't go crazy with anger.

"Okay," she sighed. "My email is Greenisthebest1 at yahoo dot com." Clint could practically hear her blush.

"Thank you, ma'am. And, if think that's bad, I just spoke to someone who's email is mew_mew_babe, so your's is pretty tame." She sighed in relief. "I'll send that email now," and they both hung up.

Clint started a new email with a sigh. At least she hadn't called him Claws. He was still pissed about that.

_Miss Ross,_

_This isn't about the tesseract, per se. You might end up looking into it, I've heard that it emitts gamma signatures, so you might. This is actually about Bruce Banner - he's requested to see you._

Tony had also said that Betty might not exactly want to come, so he had to persaude her. Bruce probably wouldn't mind, and they had a Thor if he did.

_There will be a Stark Industries jet at_

He gave the name of the airport and the time it would be there, then.

_There might be other women on board, might not. If there are, Thor requested them, but don't talk about why you got on._

Clint wasn't sure if Tony would double up on jets or not. Might as well use a precaution.

_That is, if you want to come. You're not required to come, but it would be greatly appreciated. You'd also get to work in Stark labs at your discretion, with a few exceptions._

_Hawkeye_

Two emails down. None to go. Two opportunities for friends, if they ever found out.

Ugh.

Clint leaned back so that he was laying on his back, then stretched out his arms and shoulders.

He'd done good deeds today, sure, but his ledger was still "dripping."


	3. Goddamn Spies

_**STARK INDUSTRIES JET, EXACT LOCATION** **REDACTED**_

Jane was smiling. Of course she was smiling, she was (unknowingly) on her way to her beefcake, and out of the awesome-for-the-first-week-and-shitty-for-all-of-the-rest-of-the-time-spent-there science place. Jane was bursting and beaming and _smiling_, but Darcy wasn't.

She wasn't sad or angry or anything like that, she was exhausted. Apparently, getting Jane to do things when happy was hard, because she got off task and distracted. Really, she shouldn't have to be so damn happy about leaving a science place.

Darcy had packed quickly - she didn't have much to begin with, just enough shirts and several pairs of jeans and socks. And, she knew that they were about to see Thor, so she may have rushed a bit. It doesn't matter, really.

...

The two have been sitting on the plane, making small talk and eating Stark out-of-jet-and-airway for several hours, when they start to descend. Darcy's not as smart as Jane or Erik, but she's no fool, and she knows that they are not in New York. It's been a while since she flew, but Tromso to New York takes longer than what time they'd spent flying.

They sit for a while - yay! Darcy loves wasting time - and then, another woman, with dark brown hair and glasses comes into the little room Jane and Darcy had settled into. "Hi," she says. "I'm Betty Ross."

Now, when Darcy had been going through her majors, she'd picked some weird science-y one, that was not political science, and had to drop it because she understood one word of every ten spoken. She'd heard of Betty Ross, read her papers, even. A smile curled her lips. The avengers were awesome. And considering of everything.

Awesome.

* * *

_**STARK TOWER'S HANGAR, NEW YORK CITY, NEW YORK**_

A good day and a half later - which was shocking, considering it was a Stark jet - there were three women, being met by Clint, Tony, Steve, Pepper and Natasha in the hangar.

One had long black hair that was pulled into a rushed pony tail. She was Betty Ross, science beauty and Bruce's... what? Clint wasn't sure what the woman was to Bruce, not really. He didn't know any of the avengers 'side Natasha, so it's not a surprise.

Another - considerably shorter than Betty - had medium length light-brown hair. She was Jane Foster, science beauty and Thor's not-quite-girlfirend-but-definetly-first-other-worldly-kiss.

The last one, Darcy Lewis, the one he'd talked to, was more Betty's height than Jane's, and she was no one that Clint knew of's nothing. Still, she was just as beautiful as the other women, even though she was younger.

Christ, how fucking old is she?

Clint knew she was going to college for something, knew it wasn't astrophyis-something or Norse-god-wrangling-and-tangling-and-tasering.

Anyway.

Pepper was talking. Since when had she started talking? Ugh. Clint was spacing out - _again_.

"-Jane, Natasha will be escorting you to your room-" Nat and Steve were working to get Jane to her "room" without her coming in any contact with Thor and vise versa. Thor wasn't going to be staying long, so this had to happen fast. "-Darcy, Betty, if you'd stay down here for a moment?"

Betty nods. "Of course," she says with a smile.

"Um," Jane says, completely hesitant to go with two superheroes who she doesn't know. "Is it okay if Darcy comes with me?"

Tony doesn't frown, exactly, but his lips flatten. "Sorry, but no, she's gotta stay down here. Steve doesn't bite - unless you want him to?"

Steve glares hotly at him Tony - they're getting along better now, but they just rub each other the wrong way, in all of the wrong places. "Stark!" Steve snaps.

Jane looks scandalized. "No! Not that - um - it's just - I - Thor -"

"Yeah, I get it," Tony interuppts, "you're hot for Thor, don't worry."

"Is Thor here?" Jane asked.

Natasha, by far the best liar, told her, "no, he's visiting Loki in his cell. The two won't be able to talk when they get to Asgard."

"Loki? He's still here?" Darcy demanded. Betty raised an eyebrow, saying that she wanted to know to.

Clint grinned. "Yeah, he's still here. What makes you think foreign governments are going to let a crazy ass Norse fucker in their country with the shit he just pulled?"

"Claws is right!" Darcy smiled back. "I was wrong, and that is the only time that will ever happen. I should have thought about that."

"'Claws?'" Tony smirked evilly. "Katniss, I think she likes you."

"Is that why you give every one you meet a nickname?" He asked innocently. "I do believe you call Wolverine 'Fuzzy'. You got the hots for him?"

"No," Tony rolled his eyes. "Look, Jane, you got to get up there quick, 'kay? I really need to talk to Jailbate and Betsy." He saw Pepper looking at him, and sighed. "Alright, admittedly not my best. Serieously, though, leave."

"Tony!" Pepper admonished.

"What?"

"Anyway," Steve grins, despite the show of Tony's obvious lack of tact, at Jane. "Care to join us?"

Jane reluctantly goes, and once she, Steve and Natasha are in the elevator and shooting up to the communal floor, Tony deflates. His day had been stressful - the company was whining about Iron Man saving the day, Loki was silently bitching, it took forever to convince Thor and Bruce to spend time with each other in the latter's brand new lab.

"Barton, you wanna talk?" He asks.

Clint raises an eyebrow in the sassiest way he can manage. "I called them and got transportation - so, no, I do not want to talk, asshole."

Pepper sighs. "You'll be seeing Bruce and Thor tonight, at dinner. Until then, you'll be unpacking in your rooms. Betty, Bruce doesn't know that you're here, despite what Agent Barton said to you over email, so if you were going to ask why you couldn't see him now, there's your answer. We're surprising him with you. Any questions?"

"When's dinner?" Darcy questioned immediatly.

Pepper laughed softly. "7:45 or 8:00, it depends on when everyone is free."

"Why didn't Jane have to have this talk?" Betty asks.

Clint took it upon himself to pull away from Stark's face-making-game and answer for Pepper. "We're surprising Thor with her, and Jane with Thor."

Betty smiles a huge, beaming smile. "When I saw what happened on the TV, I thought you would all be arrogant assholes, like Stark."

Said arrogant asshole scowled. "Hey! You're staying in my tower, you can't-"

"Don't worry, you won't be kicked out, no matter what Tony says." Pepper informs Bettty. "You're too valuable to Bruce, whom he is great friends with, and he has a fanboy crush on you and Bruce, anyway, so you're safe from the monster that is New York rent."

"I do not!" Tony states petulantly.

"The rent is too damn high!" Darcy laughs.

Clint nearly cries laughing.

* * *

On the elevator, Tony is luckily not there, so it is awkward as all hell. It's just Clint and Darcy, because Tony wanted to talk to Betty about her own lab space - something he would do with Jane as well - and she had to wait for someone to take her to her room, anyway.

"So," Clint starts out, "you got your iPod back?" Obviously, he knows that she did, as he'd spent time looking for it, but there's nothing else he could think of to break the ice than an animated Darcy-iPod-rant.

She glanced up at him. Her eyes were blue, but a darker blue than tesseract, than how his own eyes had been. Clint had looked at himself in the mirror that Loki had, the only mirror, and had been horrified to find bright blue eyes instead of the regular hazel. "Yeah, I did. I forgot to ask who found it so that I could thank them, but you know, it doesn't really matter."

"It doesn't?" He asks, because he found that fucking thing and had to deal with Agent Marius telling him over and over that _no, it's not here_ and _we're not a miracle agency, Barton_ and _shit gets lost sometimes_. Clint had tried to argue that if Marius was any good at his job, _the damn iPod would have been catalogued_ with everything else, but the guy had nearly kicked him out. Like, almost actually kicked him. "Don't you think that they'd want to be thanked?"

"Well, it can't be that hard to find an _Apple_ product, so no, I don't think that."

Clint paused and looked at her. "I know who found your iPod."

"That's nice."

"You're not even curious?"

"No," she said, looking up from her iPod to him again. "Chances are, I'll never see the person ever, anyway, so there's no point."

Clint tipped his head back and sighed. Was he really about to do this? Yes, yes, he was. "It was me."

She's silent for a moment, looking down at the cat gif displayed on the screen, only slightly marred by the cracks. Then, her head snaps up to stare at him with wide eyes. "What? Claws, are you serious?"

Clint cringed. "If I say yes, will you stop with the_ flattering_ nickname?"

"I will never, so you might as well just spit the answer out!"

Clint sighed through his nose. "It took several hours and I got yelled at by some ballsy level three."

She laughed, ice officially broken. "Really, Claws?"

Clint glared at her. "Stop calling me Claws, my name is _Clint_, not _Cla__ws_. And, yes, really. The dumb fuck kept telling me that it hadn't been catalogued. He got reassigned and I'll never have to deal with him again."

Darcy opened her mouth to say something, but the elevator doors opened onto the right floor and they stepped out. The walked all the way to nearly the end of the hall before stopping.

"So, here's your room." Clint said, stepping up to a door. "It's got a door connecting to Jane's, but when she moves in with Thor, the door will be locked. I'm across the hall, and two to the left, Cap's in between me and Betty, who's next to him. Bruce and Tony and Pepper are on your other side, and Natasha is across from Jane. Thor's at the end, by the living room. Just... stay in here, entertain yourself."

"When am I gonna see if Tony Stark's AI thing is a myth or not?" She asked, not really listening. Clint's eyes narrowed.

"Hello," Jarvis's smooth british accent said, making Darcy jump, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lewis. I am Jarvis, and I can help you find anything you need, within reason, of course."

"Cool!" Darcy smiled.

"Hey," Clint said, "where's Tony and Pep sleep?"

"You're testing me, Claws, I'm not stupid." He shrugged. "Jarvis?"

"Sir and Miss Potts sleep across the hall from Captain Rogers, Miss Lewis."

"You know you can call me Darcy?" She asked Jarvis, looking around the ceiling.

"My coding insists that I use formal titles, Miss Lewis," he said after a moment.

"Huh," Darcy conceded.

"So, you'll be fine until dinner?" Clint asked.

Darcy raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care?"

Clint quirked an eyebrow. "Can't let my charge die, whether it be of boredom or otherwise."

"Charge?" She shrieked. "I'm not a fucking _charge_!"

"Shh!" Clint grinned.

"God, Claws!" Darcy sighed. "A fucking charge. How old do I look? Twelve? I'm graduating college, not high school."

"I know," he called over his shoulder, work done. She gave him a weird look. _Goddamn spies_, she thought.

* * *

Dinner that night was breakfast, with pancakes and waffles and eggs and bacon. Steve cooked - he wasn't shit and was actually way better than any of them but Bruce - and it looked great.

"Where is Clint?" Thor asked.

Clint, Betty, Jane and Darcy weren't at the table, but the only one Thor knew was supposed to be there was Clint.

Tony looked up from his StarkPhone. "Jarvis! Where's Katniss?"

"Agent Barton is bringing the presents, sir."

Natasha chuckled. "'Presents,' Stark?"

"Yeah! They're presents, so that's what I'm gonna call them."

Bruce looked between Tony and Natasha. Pepper wasn't joining them that night, and Steve, his other usual conversation-provider was still in the kitchen. "Uh, what do you mean by presents? You didn't get prostitutes, did you?"

Thor frowned and Tony groaned. "Tony, you have been previously informed that I am in relations with lady Jane, yes? She will not like these, ah, 'prostitutes' that you speak of."

"Yeah, Thor," Tony immediatly agreed, "I know. I'm 'in relations' with Pepper, and I didn't get prostitutes, Bruce, Christ. Oh! Hey, one of them's for you, and two are for you, Thor."

Thor frowned again. "Tony, I do not-"

Clint, along with the presents, walked in then. "Steve's night, right?" He asked, coming up to his designated chair next to Natasha and across from Tony and sitting himself in it.

"Yep!" Natasha said with a well placed jab to Clint's ribs.

He hissed. "Hey! Fuck you, my ribs are still sore."

Tony chuckled, turning off his phone and setting it on the table.

However, Bruce and Thor were frozen. "Betty?" Bruce asked.

**Hey. This is late, but longer than the last, so there's that. Thanks for reading! :D**


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